


The Center of an Angel

by deantops



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:34:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deantops/pseuds/deantops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samandriel isn't an unstoppable force. He's not fire, he's not ice. He didn't stop the apocalypse. He's not Castiel, not his big brother. He can be broken, and cannot seem to put himself back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Center of an Angel

Samandriel isn't an unstoppable force. He's not fire, he's not ice. He didn't stop the apocalypse. He's not Castiel, not his big brother. He can be broken, and unlike Cas cannot seem to put himself back together.

He feels the first stirrings of real panic when the demon fits the metal thing around his vessels skull. Samandriel doesn't know what it is, what effect it will have upon him, but he's willing to bet his grace on the fact that it's not meant to cause him any pleasure.

And then the pain starts, in rolling, wracking waves emanating from the center of his brain, the container of his grace and spreading through his body, threading paths of acid along his wings. He's never felt so connected to his vessel, never appreciated how bound humans are in their own bodies. 

Samandriel is not high in ranking in his garrison and has never had cause to fight. His assignment has been more along the lines of observation. He watches. He's a guardian, always has been.  
He's never been in so much pain.

And so it goes.

Goes on for hours, a millennia; the angel will never know. At some point he ceased to be able to fully appreciate the pain, the way it has centered in his grace. There's a monster lodged firmly in his brain now, a monster that had possibly been in there the whole time. Samandriel thinks, haltingly, of the vessel. Alfie. The boy who worked at a Wiener Hut, whatever that was. There was no way he could have survived this.

When the pain stops, he feels as though he has been filled with ice. It's the first time he has ever felt like cold. He supposes that's the word for it. 

And when his eyes open, he sees Castiel. Senses his grace more that recognizes the vessel. This is his brother, the one who tore up the script, broke all the rules, and stopped the apocalypse. Samandriel nearly chokes on his relief, but the monster in his head has comes untied and in pressing for it's way out. There's something he needs to tell Cas. Has to - no matter the pain.

He doesn't notice Cas has moved them until his back is pressing up against smooth metal, rainwater soaking through his shirt.   
"It's okay," Cas says, eyes intent upon him, fist clenching the material on Samandriel's chest. "You're safe now. I'm taking you home."  
Samandriel tries to protest, but his words are choked, and he sees the awareness flood out of Castiel's face and knows he's in that room, the programming room -   
And he sees the flash of the angel blade out of the corner of his eye. He keeps his gaze on Castiel, but he sees none of the angel he'd heard so much about, the one who has died over and over for all of them.   
When his grace escapes his vessel in that final rush that illuminates the world if only for a minute, his eyes never stray from the fallen angel's until there is no awareness left in them to see.


End file.
